races across the plowed fields
flows over the tall grasses
pushes past a stand of oaks
spills over the gully’s edge
breaks the broad basement windows
animates a dozen expectant faces
on a cloth-covered board,
a paper Jesus and Peter,
and her illuminated hands.
She navigates the room
to a shelf
where the flash of cheap metal
and rattle of tambourines
starts voices whispering.
Little chairs skip over the carpet
making space for a weathered soda crate
filled with shakers and scrapers,
sticks, triangles and bells.
An orchestra passes into eager hands.
We delight in each wooden ‘tock’ and
each tinny ring. We laugh, clap, shout and sing.
Her grey hair shakes and bobs
and her smile
at every “Yes, Jesus loves me”
paints the cinder block walls with joy.